Unexpected Christmas Gifts
by koalabear
Summary: Set during Order of the Phoenix. You need to have read The Boy Who Died first.


**Title: Unexpected Christmas Gifts (PG-13)**  
** Pairing:** Oliver Wood / Hermione Granger (and shadows of Cedric because I can never forget him :)  
**Word Count:** 5,123 words approximately  
**Disclaimer:** None because they're useless  
**Notes:** Set during _Order of the Phoenix_. This is for **ginger001** who wanted an Oliver Wood/Hermione Granger story. I have to admit I found it quite challenging (really, really hard!) but after mulling for a while, I finally started writing it last night and here it is! I think you need to have read The Boy Who Died first.

If you like this story, the rest of my HP fics are at my livejournal. Click on my user name and that will take you to my profile which sets out a link to my livejournal.

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Hermione and a number of other prefects stood around keeping a watchful eye to make sure the students didn't get out of hand in their unruly enthusiasm. Oliver Wood had suddenly turned up at Hogwarts in the lead-up to Christmas and was presently surrounded by absolute glory after Puddlemere United had recently made it into the Quarter Finals. Although only in the reserves for his first year in the team, due to the fact that Puddlemere's Keeper had been injured during the season, Wood had managed to secure eternal fame by having participated in the pivotal qualifying rounds. 

Not only the Gryffindors were out of their mind with glee, all the other houses bar Slytherin were also going mad. Wood was swamped by hordes of students all desperate to get his autograph. He was dressed casually but the students around him were wearing badges supporting Puddlemere United.

Wood glanced up and saw Hermione watching him. The smile faded from his face and he looked very thoughtful as he studied her stillness. He nodded at her and she inclined her head slightly at him to acknowledge his greeting.

She looked different he noted with a foolish pang of regret and delight. She was no longer the little girl with the bushy hair and overlong teeth from first year he had first met when she was tagging around after Harry as his loyal shadow. Her hair was still unruly, her dark eyes still bright with intelligence as they scrutinised, assessed and noted the world around her. Her chin was still stubborn, her face as wilful as he recalled and he felt a warmth at seeing her again which caused him no surprise.

Hermione Granger was taller, coltish and as always too determined and stubborn-looking for beauty and grace but there was something that tugged at one's senses. He'd always been aware of it. In seeing her again, he realised that he'd always known.

"Ease up," one of the prefects said reprovingly when there was jostling.

"Oh don't be such a stick in the mud. There hasn't been something so exciting since the Triwizard Tournament!" someone exclaimed.

"Let's not talk about that. This is a happy!" Someone else contradicted. "Someone died during the Tournament, there's no comparison!"

The voices faded away and Oliver Wood again glanced at Hermione who was standing near Harry, Ron and a group of other friends watching on in varying degrees of interest and amusement. Hermione's face had been expressionless as she had watched on but there had been a slight flicker at the mention of the Tournament.

"Did you know Diggory well?" Oliver Wood asked bluntly, walking up to them as they stood surveying the crowd before them who were starting to disperse.

Hermione's face was shuttered, her eyes almost blank. "Not really," she said coolly. "Everyone knew of him of course. He was a sixth year when I was in fourth year ... I saw him around a lot but barely exchanged two words with him ..." Without realising she did so, her hand went up to the S.P.E.W. badge pinned to her school robes, her hand cradling around it with a strange protectiveness.

"So why are you visiting Hogwarts, Wood? Not that it isn't grand to see you?" Harry demanded, clearly wanting to change the subject but Wood continued as if he hadn't heard.

"I was in shock when I found out," Oliver said bluntly. "I've never had a friend die before ..."

"Friends? But you hated him when Hufflepuff beat Gryffindor ..." Ron protested.

Wood looked sheepish. "Well ... even I had to admit that Hufflepuff won fair and square that day. He wanted a rematch but you know ..."

"I know," Hermione said softly despite herself. She smiled. "I also remember that Fred and George said that you were trying to drown yourself in the showers that day ... "

Harry flinched, he still remembered his feeling of overwhelming guilt and shame for having let the team down. Hermione smiled at him fondly. Although she had never played Quidditch in her life, over the years, she had shared each of Harry's Quidditch triumphs and failures. It was almost as though she was a member of the team. For her, it was almost as if she had personally heard each of Wood's rabidly enthusiastic speeches first-hand.

Oliver looked sheepish. "So I spent a little longer in the showers than usual," he said defensively. "Just using the water to cover up my manly tears and all you know," he joked. "When I came out of the changerooms that day, Diggory was waiting for me. He was really apologetic ... so bloody noble and fair of him ... he made it impossible to hate him," Wood said abruptly.

The others fell silent and Harry nodded, his jaw very grim as he agreed with Oliver's assessment.

Hermione's face remained impassive but her hand was tightening convulsively around her badge. Oliver didn't appear to notice, he was too caught up in his own sorrow. The others didn't try to stop him. All of them had different ways of dealing with the grief and the Hogwarts to which Oliver had returned was a different place to the school he had left. The Wizarding World was a different place - not just for Oliver but for everyone. Although many did not believe the horrifying news that Voldemort had returned, Oliver Wood believed.

"We kind of became mates after that ... I hung out with him at the Quidditch World Cup ... we were even joking around that maybe after he finished up here I'd get him a spot on the team ...overlooking his lowly Hufflepuff origins of course," Oliver said with a forced smile. "He was so bloody happy when he got into the Tournament - it was the closest I'd ever heard him get to gloating ...laughing at me because I was torn up because nothing so big every happened when I was here," he said with another attempt at a smile.

"Excuse me, I have to go and patrol the corridors," Hermione said stiffly and walked away, aware that Wood was watching her walk away. She heard the Weasley twins rushing up to Oliver.

"Wood! They said you were around - fancy a game for old time's sake? Angelina's been channeling your spirit, it's the most freaky thing you ever saw!"

Hermione's thoughts were unsettled as she walked away, shivering slightly. Oliver Wood had always been tall and lanky, on the gangly side. Now since leaving Hogwarts, he'd filled out more. He was no longer a boy. He was a youth who was fast becoming a man. His hair was thick, brown, cropped short as if to tame the slight curl in his hair into submission. He was still the cheerful albeit somewhat intense and outspoken person she remembered.

Although he had been talking to them all, his gaze had returned to hers again and again as if there was something he was looking for in her gaze. She didn't ever remember seeing _that_ look in his eyes before.

He was taller than Cedric, more burly, quieter but there was a certain gentleness and kindness about his expression that was not entirely dissimilar. Wood's eyes were a mischievous and direct hazel not a brilliant grey. Hermione's face twisted as pain seized her heart. She found herself resenting Wood's carelessness in bringing up Cedric's name again. She had almost convinced herself that she had forgotten.

She exhaled with an effort, not knowing why Oliver's fearless and unflinching hazel eyes had made her think of Cedric again.

Her throat tightened. It would have been nice to have spent a Christmas with Cedric.

She forced herself to keep walking. One step at a time, one step after another. One breath at a time.

In the days that followed, Wood appeared to be everywhere. He was welcomed like a returning hero by student and teacher alike. Hordes of students and adoring girls followed him everywhere. To her displeasure, half the members of Dumbledore's Army were off their head with excitement and had even told him about their sessions. Clearly she hadn't done her work properly when jinxing the name list parchment.

"Come on Hermione, Wood's cool - he's one of us!" Harry and Ron had protested when she had muttered darkly under her breath.

"Fine, let's hope he can keep a secret," Hermione had said irritably, unsure why the thought of Oliver Wood unsettled her so much these days. She'd known him forever. She had first met Oliver when she was a first year and he was a burly fifth-year who was captain of the Quidditch team. Being a first year she was scarcely worth the notice of a fifth year and her interest in Quidditch was limited to following Harry's progress.

Wood on the other hand was mad about Quidditch. It was almost like his life. He grew excited about it, he obsessed about it, he had led his team with the zeal and determination of a general going into battle. As Harry was his prized Seeker, over the years she'd had many dealings with him but such dealings were always relating to Harry. She had always liked him but the athlete and the bookish swot were never really going to have a huge amount in common aside from a sneaking appreciation of the attractiveness of the other.

Accordingly, Hermione was very startled when she saw Oliver Wood on his own for once. Somehow he had managed to shake off his rabid fans and he was pacing restlessly along a corridor where there was a stretch of blank wall opposite an enormous tapestry depicting Barnabas the Barmy's foolish attempt to train trolls for the ballet.

She frowned slightly, she wondered if he knew where he was standing and if a member of Dumbledore's Army had been even more discreet than she had feared.

"Hermione," Oliver said briefly while a moth-eaten troll paused in his relentless clubbing of the would-be ballet teacher to watch them intently. He had clearly been pacing along that stretch of corridor over and over, turning something over in his mind. "I really need a word ..."

At that moment, a large doorway appeared in the corridor and Oliver turned and stared at in astonishment. Hermione was incredibly curious and walked past him looked inside curiously, Oliver following close behind. Just as they stepped inside, the door vanished behind them and they were both trapped inside. Together.

"What the _bloody_ hell?" Wood demanded, looking around them wildly.

Hermione who knew exactly where they were looked even more alarmed.

"What on _earth_ have you got in mind?" she demanded suspiciously as she studied the contents of the room.

"Where are we?" Oliver demanded.

"It's the Room of Requirement," Hermione said.

"And what the hell is that?"

"The house elves call it the Come and Go Room," Hermione told him. "It's a room that a person can only enter when they have real need of it. Sometimes it's here, sometimes it's not ... but when it appears, it's always equipped for the seeker's needs. I was here only yesterday ... " she said staring around, thinking of the last session of Dumbledore's Army.

At that time, the room had been a spacious room lit with flickering torches like those that illuminated the dungeons eight floors below. The walls had been lined with wooden bookcases and instead of chairs there had been large silk cushions on the floor. A set of shelves at the far end of the room carried a range of instruments such as Sneakoscopes, Secrecy Sensors and a large, cracked Foe-Glass.

The room was now completely different. There was a romantic fire, Christmas decorations, the warm smell of hot chocolate, gingerbread, shortbread and treacle pudding. A huge Christmas tree stood in the corner, its branches welcoming them as it appeared to almost want to topple over with the weight of the brilliant and exquisite decorations.

"Well don't look at me, _I_ didn't ask it to appear!" Oliver protested, staring at the very romantic candlelight, fluffy rug, sofa and fireplace with a rather wild look in his eyes.

Hermione frowned in perplexity. "Mostly people stumble across it when they need it - I certainly didn't summon it ..."

Oliver appeared to be struggling with himself and then gave up.

"Hermione." Oliver blurted out abruptly and Hermione looked at him inquiringly.

"All right, I lied about why I'm back. I'm not really here for old time's sake. I came back to see you". Wood told her bluntly looking very awkward.

Hermione stared at him in shock.

"Why look so surprised?" Oliver asked her. "I've always had a soft spot for you ... you were the one who charmed Harry's glasses in the rain ... you've always helped him out along the way ... then when Diggory kept going on about you..."

Hermione stiffened. "_What_?"

"I know about you and Cedric, Hermione," Wood told her, not wanting to look at her.

Hermione couldn't breathe. She felt suffocated, a panic rising up inside her and she looked around for a means of escape. There was no door and she stood where was and took a deep breath.

"How do you know?" she demanded.

"He told me himself," Oliver told her quietly. "I told you ... we were friends. We kept in touch even after I left. I was touring with Puddlemere... Cedric had asked me to find your Christmas present for you when I was in China for the qualifying rounds ...I never got the chance to tell him I found it .."

Hermione flinched.

"I made fun of him of course. Called him a sissy, losing his head over you ... being a big girl for taking so much time to get a gift with 'meaning' and all .." Oliver said with an embarrassed laugh.

He awkwardly handed Hermione a box and then recoiled in horror.

Tears were streaming down Hermione's cheeks and Oliver wanted to look away. There was nothing he hated more than seeing a girl cry. Well, seeing a boy cry was probably worse. The disturbing thing about Hermione's tears was that her weeping was completely silent, the tears sliding down her cheeks and splashing onto the box she held in her hands. Not a sound escaped her despite the fact that she was sobbing. There was something terrifying about such silent, self-contained grief.

"Oh god ... no ... please don't cry!" he said looking around frantically and grabbing a tissue from a nearby table, mopping at her face awkwardly while the tears kept flowing.

"Come on .. open it, it's a top gift ... a bit naff and all but ..." he said encouragingly.

When she didn't move, his hands went down to hers. His hands were larger than hers. Strong, steady and reassuring, his fingertips calloused. His hands were warm and comforting. Hers were icy and trembling and she looked up in shock at the heat and sensation which shot through her body at his unexpected touch. She looked down again to his hands covering hers and then up into his eyes which were very steady and understanding. He smiled.

Oliver helped her to unwrap the box and lifted the lid off for her. Hermione stared inside and then took out a small, delicate and finely carved stone.

"It's a name seal," Oliver explained. "The Chinese have been using them for centuries but ... this one's special ... it was made for you ... I had to climb to the top of a bloody great mountain range - almost froze my arse off ... then I had to go and find some half-mad Chinese sage hiding away in a fairy grotto that Cedric had read about in some ancient scroll ... "

Hermione's fingers slid over the surface of the stone. It was hot and cold to the touch, murmuring comfortingly against her skin. "The stone was shaped by the dripping of the stalactites ... it's hand-carved and ..."

He grabbed at a piece of paper and Hermione stared as he took the seal and stamped a piece of paper.

"It's magically self-inking," he told her and she stared at the jewel-like colours shifting on the page before her. Mythical beasts danced through the square, colours flashed and disappeared and her name formed itself in Chinese characters and then in English, the letters moving slowly and languorously. The splashes of colour were mesmerising.

_Hermione._

"You know, he almost never called me Hermione ..." Hermione managed to say with a choked laugh. "It was always Granger this and Granger that ..."

Wood raised one eyebrow. "Really? He never called you anything but Hermione when he mentioned you to me". Wood rolled his eyes. "He said Hermione was prettiest name he'd ever heard."

"I take it you don't agree," Hermione, feeling inexplicably irritated.

"It's a bloody mouthful you have to admit," Wood pointed out

"So why don't _you_ call me Granger?" Hermione demanded of him, her eyes kindling even as she dashed away her tears with her hands.

Wood looked down at the piece of paper. There was a luminescent phoenix flying around the unicorn that was gambolling around the letters of Hermione's name.

"Seems a shame not to use such a pretty name," he mumbled almost incoherently. "Even though it's a jolly long name," he told her defiantly, his hazel eyes laughing.

Hermione stared at him in shock.

"I hope you like it," he said awkwardly.

"A present from the dead from beyond the grave," she whispered and Oliver flinched.

"I've had it with me all along... I knew it might ... make you sad if I gave it to you ... but it didn't feel right not to give it to you ... carrying it around with me all the bleeding time ... I just ..."

"Thank you .. it's beautiful," Hermione said, smiling through her tears. "It's absolutely perfect ... and it's just like him to have thought of something like this ..."

"It sounds mad I know ... at first I made fun of him. Called him soft ... but the way he couldn't stop going on all about you ... I couldn't help it ... I'd never forgotten you in the first place ... and then hearing about you from him... I found myself falling for you all over again like a bloody great idiot."

"Again?" Hermione demanded in shock.

"Ialwaysthoughtyouwereabitofacutieevenwiththefunnyteethandhairandall," he mumbled incoherently, turning scarlet and Hermione shook her head in disbelief. She had always thought he was quite good-looking and amusing but it had never crossed her that anything was in his mind except Quidditch.

Wood grimaced. "I doubted you'd ever look twice at a brainless lug like me ... just good at Quidditch and nothing else ..." he muttered beneath his breath.

That made Hermione smile despite herself. It wasn't too far from the truth. She always seen him as single-minded, determined and obsessed with Quidditch. As she looked at him now, she found her thoughts shifting, reconsidering.

She heard her own voice as an earnest little first year.

_Books! And cleverness! There are more important things - friendship and bravery ..."_

"You know ... being captain of the Quidditch team means that you're a leader. Your team always listened to you, looked up to you. I don't know that people would listen to the words of a brainless lug," Hermione told him reflectively.

The candles were flickering romantically, the fire was almost swaying to a silent melody, encouraging an atmosphere of relaxed pleasure and peace. The Christmas decorations leaned towards them expectantly, the tinsel positively twinkling in anticipation as the little silver bells on the Christmas tree sighed in suspense.

Wood looked stunned and said nothing.

"Determined, loyal ... you never give up ... these are admirable qualities and none of them are incompatible with intelligence," she said thoughtfully.

"Some call that being fanatical," he said as he reached for another tissue and carefully wiped her face, tucking her hair behind her ears, his gentleness at odds with the strength in his calloused hands.

That made Hermione smile. "They tell me that you used to give the same speech every year - about it being this being it, the big one, the one we've all been waiting for..." Hermione mentioned.

Wood laughed. "Those gits always loved taking the mickey out of me. They had the speech memorised ..."

"Harry said that there was always an "or else I'm going to kill you" implied at the end of your "we're going to win' speeches". Hermione teased him. "You're a motivator".

"Or a bully?"

"You made the team work in the rain. In the mud. Harry said you're more disciplined than a teacher - you got angry with the Weasleys, who kept dive-bombing each other and pretending to fall off their brooms."

"Everyone loses it at the Weasleys. They way they were messing around was guaranteed to lose us the match! When I knew Snape was referring, I knew he'd be looking for any excuse to knock points off Gryffindor!" Wood said shaking his head, grinning ruefully.

"I remember that time in third year when you told Harry not to be a gentleman and knock Cho off her broom if he had to," Hermione said with a grin and Oliver blushed.

"I'm ruthless".

"No - you wouldn't let Harry resign when he lost Gryffindor 150 points..."

"That's only because we'd have had no chance to get any points back if we couldn't win at Quidditch!" Oliver said sheepishly.

"Harry said you used to wake him early at the crack of down for Quidditch practice - a look of crazed enthusiasm in your eyes".

Wood laughed. "Yeah. It was all part of our new training program".

"Yes ... demonstrating that you have a disciplined and strategic mind," she said thinking aloud, turning things over in her own mind. "Harry said that you spent that summer devising that training program ..."

"They all said it was boring," Oliver said with a laugh. "I'll bet Harry told you that, too"

Hermione grinned but didn't answer. "And you used to make sure every one on the team ate up before a game ...but you yourself often didn't eat anything yourself..."

"I get nervy before a game ..." He stopped abruptly. "You know, you seem to know an awful lot about me".

"I notice things .." she said quietly.

"Well you were the one who helped out when Dark Magic was interfering with Harry's game ..."

"Yeah but I thought it was Snape ... when it was actually Quirrell," she said rolling her eyes.

Wood grinned. "True, but I hear you accidentally knocked Quirrell headfirst into the row in front - maybe your subconscious knew what was what even if your conscious didn't?" Wood paused. "You never liked Quidditch. I know you only ever followed it because of Harry," Wood pointed out, a strange expression in his eyes.

Hermione smiled and nodded. "You're right ... and you want to know why I don't like it? Because I know I'd be rubbish at it ... I don't tend to like things I'm bad at ... a pretty bad character defect wouldn't you say?" she asked him frankly and Wood laughed and shook his head.

"Dunno about that - there are probably worse flaws to have," he said with a shrug. He didn't say anything but continued to look at her, his eyes dark. Seeing herself in his eyes, hearing the way he was speaking to her, she could believe that he thought she was without flaw.

Wood reached out to brush her hair back from her face again as if he had the right. She didn't move, she merely stared at him in anticipation, trembling slightly as she stood a short distance from him.

"Hermione".

"Oliver?" she asked him in a whisper, staring at him.

"Where did the mistletoe come from?" he whispered back and she glanced above them. Levitating in the air hopefully and expectantly above them was a very generous sprig of mistletoe.

She stared in shock.

"Did the Room summon it from _my_ thoughts?" he asked, looking very embarrassed.

Hermione started blushing furiously, looking at the mistletoe in disbelief.

Wood stared at her in disbelief. "Yours?" he demanded, hope dawning in his eyes.

"Of course not," she denied furiously, still blushing. "And it's a stupid tradition, as if anyone should be compelled to ... do anything because of a stupid piece of plant above his or her head!" She glowered at the levitating mistletoe which gave a cheeky little shuffle and an air dance of sheer happiness.

"Oh bugger this," Oliver said, reaching down and pulled her almost roughly into his arms, his mouth coming down hard on hers. His lips were firm, his mouth hungry and the initial chasteness of a startled first kiss rapidly gave way to a hungry, urgent open-mouthed kiss that devoured and burned. Her arms slid around his neck, pulling him closer, breathing deeply of his clean scent even as his slightly stubbled jaw chafed her skin with the violence of their kiss.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, staring into her overbright eyes, her flushed face and her red and swollen mouth which was damp and slightly swollen from the force of their kiss.

"Yes, quite," she said thickly, feeling every inch of his hard, strong body against hers. He backed her against a wall, one hand tangled in her hair as he continued to kiss her, a fierce and frantic kiss which demanded everything - everything which she willingly gave to him.

Much, much later they were sitting on the ground, leaning against the sofa in front of the fire, Oliver's arm around Hermione's shoulders as she leaned against him, so close that it was almost as if they were one. She had long ago lost her hair-band and their robes were slightly askew from the franticness of their embrace. Hermione was smiling in bemusement as she studied the fire which was making mischievous sounds at her. Oliver leaned down and lazily kissed the back of her neck. She obligingly tilted her head forward so that he could trail kisses down the nape of her neck, teasing her smooth, silken skin.

"Bloody hell," she found herself saying laughingly to mock him and Wood kissed her again. This time the kiss was slow and lingering, giving him time to savour her sweetness as if they had all the time in the world.

"You're good at things other than Quidditch," Hermione mumbled thickly as she drew back from the kiss and Wood laughed.

"You'll write to me won't you?" he asked her urgently.

"Of course," she said immediately.

"I'll visit whenever I can ..." he whispered. "And ... I know what's going on ... promise me you'll be careful ..."

"Careful?"

"You're one of Harry's closest friends. He's constantly escaping with his life ... those around him can be in danger, too. I know he's your friend and he's a good lad - top bloke. Best bloody Seeker I've ever seen in my life, a real natural and believe me I've seen a few, the way he nabbed the Snitch that time ..." he exclaimed enthusiastically with fierce pride and then trailed off at the snort of laughter Hermione gave, looked at the quizzical look on her face.

"Sorry ... Quidditch talk again... old habits die hard," he said, looking abashed.

"I wonder if you'll ever love anything as much as you love Quidditch," Hermione said shaking her head.

Oliver didn't answer. He merely stared at her.

Hermione returned his gaze and found that she was blushing. Her cheeks were hot, the heat in his gaze make her feel as though her whole face was on fire.

"What are you looking at?" she demanded.

He continued to stare at her and she wanted to look away. There was a naked intensity in his eyes. He wasn't as eloquent and teasing as Cedric but there a force of will and fierce emotion in him which struck a responding chord in her. He was steadfast, compelling and almost impossibly attractive. She wanted to lose herself in him.

"Well?" she repeated, swallowing hard. Her whole body felt hot now, aching with an unfamiliar sensation.

"I'm looking at something I lo... ," her eyes widened and Oliver caught himself sharply. "Something that means more to me than Quidditch," he told her bluntly.

"I don't believe you," she told him and he laughed. "If you had a choice between kissing me or grabbing the Golden Snitch in a match against Slytherin ..."

"Don't be such a cow," he told her "Of course I'd go for the Snitch," he told her.

She hit him on the arm and he caught her wrist and laughed, shaking his head. "You really are rubbish at Quidditch. I'm a Keeper ... I'd never be anywhere near the Snitch," he teased her.

"I know that," she said airily," It's just ..." her words trailed off as he lowered his mouth to hers again and the aching tenderness of his kiss made her shiver.

"I'm serious Hermione ... jokes aside ... please be careful ... if anything happened to you..."

She silenced him with another kiss, smiling wonderingly against his mouth as she took pleasure in the sheer delight of the sensation. "I'll be careful," she promised, her eyes dark and serious.

Wood rested his brow against hers. "I feel like a bit of a bastard ... Cedric sends me here to give you his gift and instead I end up snogging you ..."

As always there was an ache in her heart at the mention of Cedric's name. "I think Cedric would have understood," Hermione said softly. Oliver tugged lightly at her hair and nodded.

"I know you'll never forget him ... and I don't expect you to ..."

"No, I'll never forget him ..." Hermione told Wood and her eyes shone with tears. "But this is different ..." and though there were tears in her eyes, her mouth curved and she felt a happy glow of hope that she thought had been buried with the boy who died.

He rested his brow against hers. "I'm sorry I didn't bring my own Christmas gift for you, Hermione," he said apologetically.

Hermione laughed and Wood looked puzzled at her reaction. Her answer was to stroke his face wonderingly before pulling his mouth down on hers again.

"You're the best Christmas present I could have asked for," she whispered, kissing him again.

Wood laughed, rolling them both down to the rug so that she lay stretched out beneath him, legs tangled together, her eyes laughing up into his. He used his elbows to keep his weight off her

"How long do you suppose this room will let us stay?" he wondered.

Hermione's eyes were full of laughter. "It's the Room of Requirement ... it's here as long as we have a need of it I suppose ..."

"Well that could be a bloody long time!" Oliver exclaimed and Hermione shrieked with laughter at his next move.

"Oliver! What are you _doing_?"

The fire turned a rosy red, blushing slightly and helpfully subdued its flame so that the room darkened discreetly for the young couple on the rug. The Christmas decorations quivered slightly and then with a happy sigh turned away to to give the pair privacy.

Only a tiny piece of tinsel stole a daring peek, turned a bright scarlet at what it saw and then buried itself beneath the branch of the Christmas tree.

**The End**


End file.
